Nighttime at the Asylum: Revised
by TheToxicInterest
Summary: Stuck in a mental hospital, Mike's only friend is his inner guardian, Mal. AU. One-Shot. Rewritten so it's *NOT SLASH*.


**Since I received no reviews on the original, I figured I would get actual feedback if I made Mal and Mike just friends.**

**Trigger Warning: Abuse and auditory hallucinations.**

**Also contains language.**

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><p>There's nothing all around me. Nothing. Nothing.<p>

_Nothing._

Every lightbulb has been taken from my room, forcing me to face a fear of the dark. Black wallpaper (more like construction paper) covers the single window. The last thing I saw was my roommate being escorted out of the room to electroshock therapy- and you better believe he put up a fight. I can still see the long, horrible needle being jabbed into his neck, his face going slack and his pupils dilating...

_Nothing._

I sit in complete darkness, hands sweating horribly even though it's freezing. I'd asked for a blanket, I'd asked for one a million times. Never got one. This thin, itchy red cloth isn't anywhere close. Maybe if I were shorter...

I can hear sighing, moaning, as though there's some kind of ghost near. Screeching starts up- are these "hallucinations", or are they the cries of the other asylum inmates?

Water turns on, even though there's no sink anywhere in or around my room. I pull my knees up to my chest, hiding my face as I shake and twitch and mutter, "Why am I here? Why am I here?"

I don't care if they call it a "state hospital", this is an _insane_ asylum. I'm not _insane_. These voices are real. My abuse was real. My abuse is _still_ real. Someone is calling my name in the dark, and I don't answer because no one ever responds- and that's real, too. The nurses are abusing the other patients, and I KNOW IT, but they tell me the screams are all in my head. No one ever believes me.

(Someone, if you're out there, please help me. I'm trapped. If you're near a phone, grab it and _call my parents_. Make sure you talk to my dad; my mom will laugh at you. She's the one who put me here.)

They force those anti-psychotics down my throat to stop the "hallucinations", but they've got no effect... _I hear more screaming._

An arm snakes around my shoulders.

I jump, making little noises of distress, like a bunny caught in a trap meant for a bear.

"Shhh! Do you want them to hear you and stick a needle in _your_ neck, too?"

I stop. Carefully, with just a little hope in my voice, I asks into the darkness: "Mal?"

"Who else would it be?" He makes it sound like I'm an idiot for asking.

My surroundings are approaching us, distorting like clay being molded, the way my face does whenever I look into a mirror.

"Shhh," Mal whispers, arm still draped around my shoulders. Trying to hide my pathetic sobbing from the orderlies, I cry into my hands instead.

"Stop crying," is his only request. I look up at my guardian, the "imaginary friend" who I swear isn't just another hallucination. His eyes, intense and serious, can frighten away even the most hardened criminals. I've seen it firsthand.

Mal looks around the entire room, analyzing everything. He's thinking about the people who run this place, the people who make me take sleeping pills (that, ironically, mess with my sleep) and anti-psychotics (that do nothing but make me depressed).

"I hate it here, Mal," I cry, trying to make sure my shoulders don't rack with sobs. He just rubs my shoulder, still surveying the entire room with tactful eyes. "I'm so alone."

For some reason, he laughs. "If there's one thing you _aren't_, it's alone."

"B-but there's no one-"

_SCREAMING..._

My eyes widen, but Mal tries to distract me from the sounds. "You were saying?"

What _was_ I saying? "I don't know."

"Just don't worry, Mike. If any of those people touch us, I'll slit their throats." He's twisted, I know, but he's been my ghost and guardian ever since I can remember.

If you grew up the way I did, living a nightmare, afraid of breathing, never knowing what's going to come next... If you had to deal with your mother looking at you with nothing but hate in her eyes, her mouth curved up in a sneer that proves you disgust her... If you saw before your eyes your own father telling you there's nothing he can do to stop her rage... Well, you would want a violent protector, too.

"Thanks, Mal," I say a little too loud.

Finally, he stops observing what's around us, turning to face me and assure: "You're not alone, Mike. _Never._"

"Promise you'll stay no matter what?"

Footstep, footstep, footstep, and a flashlight comes into my room. "Checks," the nurse says, making a small mark on her clipboard to make sure I'm accounted for. (Like property. Even the things they do that make sense make me somehow feel subhuman.) I wonder, can she see _him_, too? No. She would have me sent to shocks or solitary confinement.

The light is gone, but Mal remains, just like always, my one constant.

He's glaring at the door, as though trying to will away any more nurses with his thoughts, but I know none of them will come back.

...well, I assume. Oh, God, someone come get me out of this place! Someone turn off that water! If you can hear me, if you're not trapped somewhere like me, then someone please help me! Someone stop that _FUCKING SCREAMING._

Mal can read my thoughts. He forces me to look at him so I can see that confident smile I've only wished that I could emulate. It always makes me feel better.

But then the sun starts coming up. The black wallpaper shows where its cracks are. The light eats through my room, landing on Mal, and he's gone just as quick as he showed.

I don't get to say goodbye.

And I'm left crying into my own hands, not just scared anymore, but _completely petrified._ Because no matter what he says, I always worry that Mal may never come back for me...

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><p><strong>If you'd like to read the original, just check my profile. Unsurprisingly, it's simply called "Nighttime at the Asylum".<br>**

**Please review! Reviews are always appreciated. :)**


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